


It's Not Decent

by pennydreadful



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennydreadful/pseuds/pennydreadful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets John to try out a new sex position: in the middle of the day!</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Decent

**Author's Note:**

> I feel there is an appalling lack of 69 fic in this fandom, so I fixed that. HELLO MY SMUT FRIENDS I MISSED YOU. :D
> 
> **Since I get these questions a lot: I fully give my permission for anyone to translate any of my works into any language, make podfics/audiobooks out of them, or post them elsewhere (as long as you give me proper credit). Go for it, you don't have to ask! And thank you very much!**

"John, look at this."

John looked up from his newspaper and was startled to find an open book shoved in his face and Sherlock, holding it, standing over him. John reared back, both so he could see what Sherlock was pointing out and so he didn't get his face smashed. On the right page were words. On the left one, a drawing.

John narrowed his eyes and then widened them.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you reading?" John gripped the book and turned it around so he could see the cover. " _The Joy of Gay Sex_ ," he read aloud. "Are you bloody serious?"

Sherlock turned the book back around so John could see the illustration. "Do you know what they're doing?"

"Yes, I have some idea."

"It's called sixty-nine," Sherlock said succinctly, as if John had answered his question with a slack-jawed stare. "They're performing simultaneous oral sex on each other. Isn't that efficient and clever?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Never thought of it that way, but you're right."

"Can we do this?"

John lowered his hand. He picked up his newspaper again. "Sure, the next time the mood strikes."

"Can we do it _now_?"

John looked back up at him. "It's the middle of the afternoon."

Sherlock stared at him a moment, then turned the book around and looked at the pages. "Ah, yes. My mistake. It says right here in this paragraph, 'sixty-nine cannot be performed before the hour of 8 p.m.'"

John rolled his eyes. "It's just a bit indecent to be going at it this early, don't you think?"

"I know I'm new to this whole sex thing John, but I'm fairly certain there aren't time restrictions."

John glanced toward the door and lowered his voice, "Mrs. Hudson is downstairs."

"So? She doesn't live in our flat."

"She might come up for something, though."

"I'll close the door. She knows if the door is closed not to bother us, that we're being intimate."

"She does? How does she know that?"

"I told her."

John gawped at him.

Sherlock snapped the book shut and tossed it onto the couch. He sauntered toward John--slow, deliberate, with a roll in his hips. John was in trouble. And he was trapped in his chair.

"Are you really saying, Doctor," Sherlock leaned over and put his hands on the arms of the chair, "that you don't want a blowjob?"

"Don't, Sherlock. I'm warning you."

Sherlock leaned down until his mouth was eye-level with John. "You really…"

"Sherlock…"

"…don't want my lips around your cock?" He slid his tongue out and traced the upper one, slid the tip over the sharp dip in that perfect cupid's-bow.

"Stop it." John sunk down in the chair.

Sherlock rotated his tongue, slowly, all the way around, passing it over his plump lower lip, a hint of teeth peeking out. He traced his mouth completely, so his lips were shiny, glistening wet.

John wanted to kick him. He wanted to kiss him.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked. He lifted a hand from the chair. "You don't want to be in my mouth?" He traced his lower lip with the tip of his index finger, tongue darting out to follow it. Then he slid it slowly between those pale pink cushions, in to the first knuckle, then the second. He emitted a soft, breathy moan around it.

"Oh bloody hell," John breathed out.

Sherlock slid the finger out with a wet pop. "Couch or bed?"

"Bed, definitely. There's more room."

John thought it best they were both naked, as it would make things less complicated. He really did feel indecent, with the afternoon light filtering through the curtains, steeping the room in an amber glow and making John think how other people were doing respectable things at this hour like finishing up work, going to the shops, picking their children up from various activities. Not naked. Not climbing into bed, about to suck on a cock.

Despite this sense of propriety, or maybe because of it, John's prick was already magnificently stiff.

John lay down with his head toward the top of the bed and Sherlock maneuvered himself around the opposite way, head toward the bottom. Sherlock was all long, bare limbs and wild hair and a face shining with eagerness. This was an experiment for him, but John didn't terribly mind being part of it.

"I think it's a good idea to be on our sides," John said. "Neither one of us wants to be underneath with the other's prick stuffed down our throat, choking us."

"I agree."

Sherlock rolled onto his side. John did the same, and had to scoot down a bit so they were more aligned. He found himself face to…shaft with Sherlock's cock. Sherlock was still mostly limp, the head still covered. John was ashamed he was already fully hard, after the fuss he put up.

"I see the lip-licking did the trick," Sherlock said smugly.

"Hush." John propped himself on one arm, so he could position his face over Sherlock's groin. "You have no room to be--oh." Sherlock had slipped his fingers around the base of John's cock. He slid them up the shaft in a pleasantly tight ring.

"Indeed," Sherlock murmured, and John could feel his breath across his inner thigh.

John circled his thumb and index finger around the head of Sherlock's cock and pushed his foreskin back, making the head pop out, plump and pink. Sherlock was meticulous about keeping clean, so John had no qualms about putting his mouth on him, even in the middle of the afternoon. Sherlock's cock twitched and started to firm up against John's palm.

A second later John felt the wet heat of Sherlock's mouth slip over the head of his own cock and gasped. Concentrating was not going to be easy.

John found himself at an odd angle to administer a blowjob, but tried to make the best of it. He slid his mouth over Sherlock and delighted in feeling him gradually expand in his mouth, until he was so firm John could only swallow him a little past the head. At the same time John was trying to keep his hips still, feeling the soft, wet slide of Sherlock's lips up and down his shaft. He was also trying to keep his body in the right position, hips tilted slightly back and upper body twisted around, which was not entirely comfortable.

"I don't know if this is working," John said. He looked down to see Sherlock slip his mouth off him and look up. John's cock popped up and smacked Sherlock on the chin.

"It seems to be going well down here," Sherlock said, and licked his wet, swollen lips.

"All right, then."

Sherlock went back to sucking and John moaned softly. A blowjob, even upside down, was a wonderful thing.

He resumed sucking Sherlock, bobbing his head on him, trying to get the right angle so he didn't get a kink in his neck. Sherlock's cock felt strange in his mouth, because it was curving the wrong direction and John wasn't used to the top of the glans rubbing across his tongue. The sensation wasn't unpleasant, just different.

He slid a hand up and cupped Sherlock's balls, kneaded them. Then he slid two fingers behind them and rubbed, gently but firmly, against the hidden, sweat-damp patch of skin there. Sherlock parted his thighs and moaned, vibrating and low, down the length of John's cock.

John came up for air and glanced down. All he saw was Sherlock's dark curls against his groin, head bobbing away. Sherlock's mouth felt amazing, and John rather resented he couldn't give the experience his full attention.

John slipped his fingers back a bit further as he slid his tongue along the length of Sherlock's shaft, keeping him stimulated. Sherlock swung his thighs open wider and bent one knee, and placed his foot flat on the bed. John delved his fingers between his cheeks, brushed a fingertip across the tight knot of muscle he found there. Sherlock moaned again and John's toes curled.

"Just need to slick things up," John murmured. He stretched up, and over.

The reach was too far though, made him shift his hips too much, and Sherlock had to slide his mouth off him. Freed for a moment, John leaned over further, beneath Sherlock's bent leg. He spread him open and swiped his tongue across his hole, felt it quiver.

"John," Sherlock said, his voice breathy. "This really isn't the position for that."

"Just lubing you up." John gathered a mouthful of saliva and spat. Then he drew back. "Make things a bit easier." Using the slickness, he started working a finger into him.

Sherlock made a soft ' _uh_!' sound, something like a protest, but he didn't protest with his body. He pressed down against John's hand and John's finger slid in to the second knuckle.

"Nothing wrong with a finger up your arse during a blowjob," John said. He took Sherlock's cock back up and slid his mouth over it.

The mutual oral sex turned heated. John was driven by the pleasure of Sherlock's mouth on him, John sucking harder, bobbing quicker, making Sherlock gasp and moan and even _whimper_ around him. The tips of Sherlock's fingers dug hard into John's hips, steadying him, holding him in place.

Sherlock was tight around John's finger, slick and hot, and John imagined fucking him after this. He pictured burying himself in Sherlock's arse, Sherlock face-down on the bed with the daylight streaming in, afternoon brilliance sliding down his spine and glinting on his hair. He imagined gripping the headboard above Sherlock as he pounded into him, while the streets below were full of commuters; not knowing depraved, filthy things going on right above their heads, witless as they moved through their respectable world.

And just the thought of fucking Sherlock like that was enough to send John over the edge. He tried to draw his hips back, popped his mouth off and said, strangled, "Sherlock!"

Sherlock swallowed the first shot, the second, and then drew back and took the rest across his cheek, slowly and firmly pumping John's pulsing erection with his hand.

"Oh, God," John panted, his whole body quivering.

"Lovely," Sherlock responded, and his voice was nearly a purr. He continued to stroke John as the tremors of his orgasm passed through him.

John was seeing stars. It took him a moment to get his wits about him, to come back down and remember he still had a job to do. He took Sherlock up tight in his hand.

"Your turn," John said.

He went to work on Sherlock in earnest, taking him deep, twisting his other hand and pushing his finger in deeper, looking for that little bump. It was harder to find at the odd angle, but when John located it, he knew. Sherlock's whole body stiffened, then he started squirming, and making the most filthy, delicious sounds John had ever heard.

He came so fast John didn't have a warning. He tried to swallow but nearly choked and pulled off, let it spill down his chin, let the rest splatter against his jaw, then trickle down his neck. Sherlock's passage clenched around his finger and despite having just came, John thought again about burying his cock in there.

"Yes, lovely indeed," John murmured as Sherlock continued to shiver and quake along the length of John's body while pulling in stuttering breaths. A final glob of pearly fluid squeezed out the slit of Sherlock's cock and John licked it away.

Finally, John slid his finger out of him and they rolled away from each other. John sprawled on his back, staring up at the ceiling and catching his breath. His chin and neck were obscenely wet. Some was in his hair.

John cleared his throat. "So, find anything else interesting in that book?"

"Oh, so very much."


End file.
